Rodin took the letter, wrote a number upon it, and placed it in a particular box.  After a moment’s silence, his master resumed:  “You will take orders from M. Duplessis, and work with him.  You will deliver to him the note on the affair of the medals; he knows to whom to address it.  You will write to Batavia, Leipsic, and Charlestown, in the sense agreed.  Prevent, at any price, the daughters of General Simon from quitting Leipsic; hasten the arrival of Gabriel in Paris; and should Prince Djalma come to Batavia, tell M. Joshua Van Dael, that we count on his zeal and obedience to keep him there.”

And this man, who, while his dying mother called to him in vain, could thus preserve his presence of mind, entered his own apartments; whilst Rodin busied himself with the answers he had been ordered to write, and transcribed them in cipher.

In about three quarters of an hour, the bells of the post-horses were heard jingling without.  The old servant again entered, after discreetly knocking at the door, and said: 

“The carriage is ready.”

Rodin nodded, and the servant withdrew.  The secretary, in his turn, went to knock at the door of the inner room.  His master appeared, still grave and cold, but fearfully pale, and holding a letter in his hand.

“This for my mother,” said he to Rodin; “you will send a courier on the instant.”

“On the instant,” replied the secretary.

“Let the three letters for Leipsic, Batavia and Charlestown, leave to-day by the ordinary channel.  They are of the last importance.  You know it.”

Those were his last words.  Executing merciless orders with a merciless obedience, he departed without even attempting to see his mother.  His secretary accompanied him respectfully to his carriage.

“What road, sir?” asked the postilion, turning round on his saddle.

“The road to Italy!” answered Rodin’s master, with so deep a sigh that it almost resembled a sob.

As the horses started at full gallop, Rodin made a low bow; then he returned to the large, cold, bare apartment.  The attitude, countenance, and gait of this personage seemed to have undergone a sudden change.  He appeared to have increased in dimensions.  He was no longer an automaton, moved by the mechanism of humble obedience.  His features, till now impassible, his glance, hitherto subdued, became suddenly animated with an expression of diabolical craft; a sardonic smile curled his thin, pale lips, and a look of grim satisfaction relaxed his cadaverous face.

In turn, he stopped before the huge globe.  In turn, he contemplated it in silence, even as his master had done.  Then, bending over it, and embracing it, as it were, in his arms, he gloated with his reptile-eye on it for some moments, drew his coarse finger along its polished surface, and tapped his flat, dirty nail on three of the places dotted with red crosses.  And, whilst he thus pointed to three towns, in very different parts of the world, he named them aloud, with a sneer.